Listener
by Medie
Summary: Sometimes, you find the best sanctuary, in listening. Written for the LJ Hometown Ficathon Challenge
1. Listener pt 1

Title: Listener  
  
Author: Medie  
  
Email: medison thezone.net  
  
Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series (With a minor TNG crossover)  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Kirk/Other  
  
Spoilers/References: pre-series, pre-Star Trek: The Movie, Post: Search For Spock, Post-Generations  
  
Author's Note: Um...yeah. First time I've ever written Kirk. Starfleet: Gander is actually mentioned in the Diane Duane Novel "Spock's World" (Spock refers to it when thinking of the reprovisioning of the Enterprise) and Gander is only about 40 minutes (that's in conventional car travel time) from Botwood hence where my reasoning for the layout mentioned in the fic comes from. The Dockside really does exist and makes fantastic food. No Calandre. But, the guy that runs it does have a friendly ear. grin  
  
Written for the LJ Hometown Ficathon. My hometown, the town featured in the fic, is Botwood, Newfoundland.  
  
Disclaimer: Star Trek - not mine. Calandre - mine.  
  
Summary: Sometimes, you find the best sanctuary, in listening.  
  
"Listener"  
by M.  
-------  
  
Night came early to Newfoundland in the fall. Dark had long since fallen when Kirk emerged from Starfleet Gander's facilities. Weary, the newly-promoted captain rubbed the back of his neck as he looked up at the night sky, searching out the shining light that was his ship. His new command...Enterprise.  
  
The thought of it sent a jolt through him, rousing him from the exhaustion of a day spent overseeing the re-provisioning of his ship. It was the mundane side of prepping for launch, stocking a ship with it's many and sundry provisions. Everything from replacing the stale air that filled the Enterprise which, even with the environmental systems, became stale over time, to stocking the ship's stores with food, hydroponics, replacement supplies, equipment, circuitry, data solids...everything imaginable that a starship would need on a deep space exploration mission. A captain's presence was not required for this particular step in the process but he wanted to be there. He wanted to see it for himself. Experience everything relating to his command. So, thus, he now found himself standing outside the facility responsible for taking care of that particular step and realizing that Newfoundland in the fall can be a very cold place.  
  
The material of his uniform tunic did little to protect him against the evening chill and he suppressed a shiver as he strode along the well-lit walkway. Starfleet kept ground cars and shuttles on hand for visiting officers' use and, rather than return to San Francisco, he'd arranged for one of them.  
  
The small towns that surrounded Gander had, over the years, evolved into a loose support network for the Starfleet facilities housed there. The closer ones house the officers and personnel that staffed the facilities but the ones a little further out, like the town Kirk was heading for, those were where Starfleet housed visiting officers and the odd dignitary. Mostly, it was the senior staff or officers, men and women like Kirk, of ships undergoing the very re-provisioning that Enterprise currently was.  
  
Newfoundland, a somewhat isolated place in days gone by, had remained largely untouched by the wars that had so ravaged the rest of the world during the late 21st and early 22nd centuries. Thus, much of the architecture of those eras and prior had remained intact. Now maintained by the inhabitants of the province. Travelling through those communities, Kirk had the feeling of stepping back in time. He found he liked it.  
  
He liked the fact that, even with Starfleet's presence, towns like Botwood hadn't changed much. They'd retained the unhurried, peaceful atmosphere which was their trademark. They'd long ago learned the lesson the rest of humanity had fought bloody wars to learn. Ambition for financial wealth and power meant little. He who dies with the most toys still dies. He liked the simple equality of the belief.  
  
He liked a lot about this place. Especially a little hole in the wall restaurant overlooking the deep blue of the harbor. The Dockside, in one incarnation or the other, had been around since the late 20th century and was housed, he understood, in what had once been the town's jail. The bars still decorated the intimately lit dining area, setting it apart from the entry way and the lounge room off the entrance hall.  
  
Kirk had been dining there every night since he'd arrived. The food was fantastic but he had to admit, it was the Dockside's enigmatic owner, Calandre, that kept him coming back. She greeted him with a friendly smile and a beer - the good stuff - and her husky voice calling his name. Seeing her and hearing her, never failed to send a charge through his body. The heady feeling of new attraction was more than enough to keep him coming back but truly, the sexual attraction had very little to do with it.  
  
Calandre, he was convinced, wasn't human. There was an ageless feel to her, a knowing look in her eyes, and a way about her that made people open up. Secure in the knowledge that no matter what they told her, she would listen. He'd found that one out for himself for the first night. Sitting at the bar, nursing a drink, and talking about his life. His experiences. From the horrors of Kudos the Executioner to the demonic cloud which drained the life out of anyone it enveloped. And, throughout it all, Calandre listened. Refilled his drink and, when he was ready and only when he was ready, offered comments and sympathy without patronizing him.  
  
"Jim..." There she was, right on cue, with a smile on her face and the beer in her hand. "You look tired."  
  
"How tired?" He inquired with a grin, settling in at the bar as she drifted down to the other end, refilling a glass for another patron.  
  
"About five times worse than exhausted." She elaborated, glancing over at him.  
  
"Only that?" His grin widened before he lifted his beer to his lips, taking a fortifying swallow. "Feel about ten times worse than dead tired. Explain to me, how a day spent watching screens and listening to briefings can leave you more tired than taking on twenty Klingons?"  
  
Calandre gave him a look, laughter in her eyes, and leaned on the bar. "Hungry?"  
  
"Starving." He countered, giving her a wicked look in return.  
  
She laughed aloud. "Shameless."  
  
"Only with you." He promised, catching the rag she tossed lightly at him.  
  
"Utterly shameless." Calandre affirmed, disappearing into the kitchen. She returned a few minutes later with a large plate of food and set it before him. "Eat."  
  
Not an order he was particularly averse to following, he happily dug into the steaming plate while she dealt with other customers, listening as a young man in Sciences blue poured his heart out about his partner and the troubles they'd been having. He half-listened as Calandre soothed the boy's worries with some concoction that turned purple with sparkles and some advice that didn't sound like advice. She was especially good at that, he'd noticed. Phrasing things in such a way that the listener didn't really realize she was helping them come to the decision or realization they needed to reach.  
  
"Last night I hear." Calandre was before him again, her eyes watching him with curiosity and some sadness.  
  
He nodded. "The re-provisioning should be done by tonight so, back to San Francisco for orders and shipping out."  
  
"Off to who knows where to discover who knows what." She teased with a smile that somehow gave him the impression she knew full well what was out there. Full well what he was going to see.  
  
"Exactly." He agreed, smiling back before saying, more suddenly than he'd planned, "Feel like taking a walk down by the water? With me?"  
  
Calandre looked at him for a long moment, then around the room, and signalled one of her waitresses to take over. "I'll get my coat."  
  
"We'll be getting snow soon." She observed, closing her eyes and lifting her face into the air.  
  
"How can you tell?" He asked casually, automatically slipping an arm about her waist, steadying her as they walked.  
  
"You can smell it on the wind." Calandre opened her eyes again, looking at him. "The edge in the air, the change."  
  
"I don't smell anything." He observed, mimicking her earlier actions and nearly stumbling over a pile of seaweed. The gaffe elicited a soft laugh from his companion who slipped her arm about his waist. "Just the water."  
  
"You haven't been here long enough." She pointed out logically. "I'm sure, were this Iowa, you'd be telling me what was coming on the wind."  
  
Jim nodded. "True enough."  
  
They walked in companionable silence, comfortable with each other, the sea air bracing them and he realized he would miss her company. No one had ever listened like she did. But, he had a feeling, no one human could.  
  
"Ask." She said quietly, surprising him.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
With knowing eyes, Calandre smiled, slipping her arm through his and hugging it. "Ask."  
  
"All right." He returned the smile. "Who are you? What are you? Where are you from? Really?"  
  
"Really?" She stopped, finding a rock and settling down on it, pulling him down beside her. "Well..." Lifting her gaze to the water, she watched the ebb and flow of the tide as she answered, "I am a Listener, an El-Aurian. That is the proper name for my people but...we are listeners first and foremost. My home...my home is very far from here. You could not reach it in your lifetime." Turning her gaze from the water, she looked at him, reaching out to lightly trace his jawline. "I came here many years ago. Many, many years ago. I liked it. So...I stayed. Humans are a fascinating people...Especially here." She gestured to the land and water about them. "It sounds silly but...this place, these people, remind me of home."  
  
"The best of both worlds." He murmured, making her laugh.  
  
"Yes, Jim, that's it exactly."  
  
"Does anyone else know? About you?"  
  
She shook her head. "No. You're the first. The first one who really looked...who saw me."  
  
He kissed her then. Slow, careful...promising. Asking a question.  
  
She answered it by standing and offering her hand.  
  
They made love that night. More than once. Taking their time each time and, for a while, he was tempted to ask if these 'Listeners' she spoke of had the ability to slow down time. To bring it to a crawl. He was tempted to ask but he didn't. If it was not among their abilities then he wished the illusion that it was to stay with him forever. Instead, he contented himself with exploring the line of her back with his lips, his hands committing her curves to memory. It would be years before he saw her again and he wished very much to remember until he did.  
  
The certainty of that belief, that he would see her again, didn't much surprise him. He had a sense that no matter when he came back to Botwood, walked into that bar, she would be there. It was a concrete fact. Like the fact space was a vacuum and the Enterprise – his home.  
  
He woke to a beautiful morning only somewhat marred by the infernal seagull that insisted on flying overhead and demanding breakfast. Beside him, Calandre was still sleeping, lying on her stomach, face turned toward him, and one hand resting on his chest. He stayed there longer than he should have, watching her sleep, before he finally admitted he needed to get ready.  
  
A replicated breakfast wasn't nearly as good as what he would have gotten at in the kitchen of the Dockside but it was good enough. Calandre didn't complain when she woke to a cup of replicated coffee and a not-so-replicated kiss. She didn't ask when he was leaving, just smiled and took the cup. Relaxed, she stayed in bed, watching him pull on his uniform, making small talk as he stepped into the pants. Teasing him when he very nearly fell over. Starfleet didn't exactly make their uniforms easy to get into.  
  
When he sat down on the edge of the bed to fight with his boots, she leaned over, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Excited?"  
  
"Terrified." He countered, enjoying the frank honesty her mere presence seemed to encourage. It was easier to tell her things than most. "It's the Enterprise."  
  
"A lot of history." She agreed. "Archer, April, Pike..." Turning her head, she kissed his neck then murmured, "Kirk," into his ear. "I think he fits in that list quite nicely."  
  
"Did you know any of them?" He asked, struck by the thought.  
  
"Archer." She revealed with a nod. "You would have liked him." Mirth danced in her eyes as he turned his head to look at her. "If you didn't drive each other crazy first."  
  
Jim laughed, kissing her. "I have to go."  
  
"I know." Calandre kissed him again, settling back on the rumpled sheets. "I'll see you when you get back."  
  
Walking from the room, he smiled. He liked her certainty.  
  
As expected it was five years, plus a promotion, and a failed marriage before she saw him again. But, without warning, one evening, Admiral Kirk walked into the Dockside and still found a beer and a smile waiting for him. El-Aurians, it seemed, were difficult to surprise.  
  
"You're late." Was all Calandre said as he sat down.  
  
"Got lost for a while." He responded, tasting the beer. "Sorry."  
  
"Mm...No need." She reached out, brushing her fingers over his brow, as if reading the cares that were now etched into it. "Tell me."  
  
And he did. It poured out of him. The entire five year mission, the return to Earth, the promotion, the instant realization it was a mistake..and Lori. He told her about Lori. The entire disaster from beginning to end.  
  
Just as he remembered, from Calandre there was no judgements, no recriminations, no comments on what he could have done differently, what he should have done differently. She simply listened. Her eyes on him, her attention on him, and her acceptance surrounding him. The title of 'legend' slipped away and he found himself remembering what it was to be that excited young man, on the brink of his first command, with no idea of what lay ahead of him. Of the adventure, the friendship, the disasters, and the successes.  
  
"Don't do that." Her words surprised him. Calandre had never spoken like that before but even as he met her gaze with wide eyes, he could see her intent. "Don't compare then to now." She smiled. "Then only helped make now."  
  
"I miss then." He commented softly.  
  
"Live long enough, you find everyone misses then. It's why everyone waxes poetic about the 'good old days'." She turned, taking the plate brought to her by a server and putting it before him. "They tend to forget there's no such thing."  
  
He slanted a look at her over the plate, silently questioning, waiting for her to explain herself.  
  
She answered the look with a softer smile. "Tell me, Jim, when you were out there, when you lost a crewman...did you wish for the good old days when you were a cadet? And when you were a cadet, were there times you wished for the good old days when you were growing up?"  
  
"It's all a matter of perspective." Jim agreed with a nod. "Humanity's never satisfied."  
  
"An endearing trait." She teased with a grin, lightly touching his hand.  
  
He chuckled at the comment and tucked into the food, putting away most of it in companionable silence. Calandre wasn't standing before him but he wasn't out of her awareness. Somehow, she always seemed able to be aware of everything at once. He was quite convinced there was little that went on in the Dockside, or in the town itself, that she didn't know about. Whether that was Calandre or a trait of her race, he didn't know. As far as he'd ever been able to tell, she was the only El-Aurian he'd ever met. Though, she maintained, there were more moving about the Federation - Earth in particular - than just her. Humanity, it seemed, fascinated the El-Aurian race to no end.  
  
"You're right." She agreed suddenly, stopping before him to lean on the bar. "Humans do fascinate us. We can't help ourselves..."  
  
"It's a perfect fit." He countered with a grin. "We like to talk, you like to listen."  
  
Calandre smiled widely, pushing a dark curl out of her eyes. "You have much to say and I have much to hear..." The personalization of the comment drew his full attention and she tilted her head slightly, looking into his eyes. "So...what is it you wish to say now?"  
  
He reached out, his fingers sliding back the rebellious curl which had again fallen into her eyes. "Walk with me?"  
  
She smiled, nodding. "I'll get my coat."  
  
TBC in Part 2 


	2. Listener pt 2

"Listener" pt. 2.  
by M.

* * *

"So...snow?" He glanced over at her, watching as Calandre tilted her head back, closing her eyes, to feel the wind on her face.  
  
"Not yet." She answered after some moments. "But it's coming. Inevitable, the changing of seasons." Knowing eyes opened to meet his. "She's calling you back, isn't she?"  
  
"Or, maybe I just won't let her go."  
  
"Maybe." Calandre allowed.  
  
"Decker'll make a good captain. He's got the right stuff for it." He said, telling himself as much as her. "It's why I recommended him."  
  
"Hmm..." She hummed, letting him slip an arm about her waist. "The right stuff...what about the right ship?" Stopping, she turned to face him, that mysterious, indefinable awareness in her gaze. "Perhaps, the ship makes the captain as much as the captain makes the ship." Her eyes tracked the progress of her words in his expression. "Enterprise is a legacy as old as Starfleet, and not an easy one to take on. It's also not an easy one to carry...or to let go of."  
  
"You know what I'm thinking, don't you?" He asked, brushing a palm along her cheek, her skin made cold by the evening air.  
  
"I'm not a telepath, Jim." She responded gently. "But, I don't need to be to know your thoughts... I remember the young man who walked into my bar those years ago. James Kirk and the Enterprise are a fit. Better than I've ever seen. I believe that ship needed you as much as you needed it. The question is...what does it need of you now? Are your needs the same?" She reached up, brushing a fingertip over his lip. "You know as well as I, if the ship is yours, it will be yours. If it is his, then it is his. Nothing will pull him from that chair."  
  
"It was a mistake." He admitted. "Giving her up. Part of me always knew it, the others tried to tell me..."  
  
"But you didn't wish to listen." Calandre smiled, eyes lighting. "There is much distance between hearing words spoken, and listening to their truth. But, I think, you already know that."  
  
"If I do," He responded, bringing her lips to his, kissing her. "It is because I learned it from you."  
  
"No you didn't." She disagreed after kissing him again. "But you flatter me by saying it anyway."  
  
Jim chuckled. "At least part of it worked."  
  
They began moving again, the gravel and rocks of the beach crunching beneath their boots, the sound of the water's movement a soft counterpoint to the harsher sound. At some point, Calandre's hand slipped down into his and their fingers entwined.  
  
It hadn't changed. The shoreline was the same, the salt air was as fresh and bracing as ever, it seemed as if everything had frozen in time when he'd left, remaining unchanged, awaiting his return. It was a silly fantasy but he mulled it over anyway. Casting Calandre as a mysterious seer, a woman of myth, whose power sustained and kept the place the same. Making it her sanctuary from the world.  
  
He dismissed that thought, knowing that the town was not her sanctuary, she was theirs. That the same serenity and wisdom that had drawn him years before drew others to her now.  
  
"Are all El-Aurians like you?"  
  
The question seemed to come from nowhere, it certainly didn't fit the conversation they'd been having, but as always, Calandre seemed unsurprised.  
  
"We are as different as humans...but in the same way, we all Listen." She smiled a little. "Some are better at it than others..." She paused, looking up at the stars. "A friend of mine, a dear old friend, is one of the best I have ever seen. Guinan...She has a skill for it that I lack. You would like her, I think, very much." A wicked grin touched her lips. "She would certainly like you."  
  
"Oh really?" He leered playfully, relaxing, and making her giggle. "Would she now?"  
  
"Oh yes, Guinan is a woman of great humor." Calandre paused then added. "She would appreciate that rather peculiar sense of humor you have."  
  
"I do not have a peculiar sense of humor." He protested, summoning up an expression of offense. "My humor is quite well-received I'll have you know. I've reduced the leaders of some planets to tears of laughter."  
  
"I won't ask how." She said swiftly, dropping his hand and dodging his attempt to grab her. "But I'm sure if I were to, it would be no doubt involve nudity and a well placed tricorder?"  
  
His eyes widened, recalling just such an incident, and then narrowed suspiciously. "Who told you about that? Bones?"  
  
"I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure of meeting Dr. McCoy." She responded formally, eyes dancing with laughter. "In fact, I haven't met any of your crewmates. Hiding me away are we, Admiral?"  
  
"Oh definitely." He lunged forward, catching her and pulling her into his arms. "You're my favorite secret. Don't want Spock or Bones wooing you away for themselves." The mention of his friends reminding him of Spock's departure for Gol and the rites of Kolinhar. "But you have little worry of that...Spock's gone."  
  
Calandre's eyes saddened at the pain behind the words. "Perhaps."  
  
"What?" He met and held her gaze, searching for any hidden truths. "Do you know something?"  
  
"I know many things." She answered calmly. "I can't answer your question, Jim. I can't tell you why he went. But I can tell you this...for as much as things change...they always remain the same."  
  
"That makes absolutely no sense." Jim responded immediately and, to his surprise, she smiled.  
  
"Doesn't it?"  
  
She was waiting for him the next time he came, as always, but this time, she'd braced herself. He could see it in her eyes. The expectation of an explosion. It was wintertime and a furious snowstorm was raging through the harbor, making walking impossible. But he hadn't tried. Instead, he'd had a Starfleet transporter technician beam him right down into the Dockside's entranceway.  
  
The bar was understandably empty. The lights were dim, and Calandre sat at a corner table, watching the fury of the storm outside, a two cups of coffee sitting on the table before her.  
  
She turned, her eyes revealing her knowledge of the situation, understanding. Without moving, she indicated the empty chair at the table.  
  
Just as silent, he moved to the table, sitting down and wrapping his hands around the white ceramic of the mug. The coffee was piping hot. Fresh. He didn't ask how she'd known of his arrival. She always knew. "My son is dead."  
  
Calandre nodded once. "I know."  
  
She always knew. "Did you know? Before? Why didn't you warn me?"  
  
The tight rage in his voice didn't seem to alarm her. There was no anger in her eyes, no fear. She leaned forward, looking him straight in the eye. "If I had known what was going to happen, I would have. El-Aurians know many things, Jim. Sometimes we know before they happen. I knew something was terribly wrong...that something was going to happen. I didn't know what. If I had..." She looked grieved, feeling his pain as if it was hers. "I wish I had."  
  
He closed his eyes, pushing back a wave of fresh grief, of rage, and loss. "David..."  
  
Calandre moved, left her chair and knelt beside his, reaching for him. Jim didn't resist, letting her pull him into an embrace. He let the tears come then, hot against the warmth of her skin, and tried to lose himself in the reassurance that was her presence. His son was dead. The son he'd never truly known. Lost. The Klingons had ripped him away. Had ripped out a part of him he hadn't really understood that he'd had. The maelstrom of grief, rage, sheer agony and deep, utter desolation threatened to pull him under and he railed against it.  
  
"Jim." Her voice pierced through it and he felt himself being pulled to his feet, guided toward the stairs that lead to her living quarters. Numbly, he let himself be lead. Let her walk him to her bedroom, strip him out of his uniform, and settle him beneath the warmth of her covers. When she joined him, the silk of her skin brushing over hers, and drew him into her body, he felt the pain and grief drain away. The tears came again afterward, his head on her breast, her hand stroking over his hair, soothing the hurt until sleep came to claim him. A deep, bottomless sleep where the nightmares could not reach him.  
  
Standing on the bridge of the Enterprise B, the eyes of the reporters on him, Jim heard the word El-Aurian and frozen. Calandre's people. He remembered the look on her face that morning, when she'd seen him putting on his uniform, getting ready to go. She'd been unsettled for days. Listless. Waking from nightmares every night.  
  
Something was wrong. She knew it. She'd been unable to articulate it but had finally admitted, it was the same feeling she'd had years before. Before he'd lost David. Something was terribly wrong and she didn't know what.  
  
Now, listening as the reports filtered in, he understood. Something had happened to her people. Calandre knew that. She'd yet to understand what.  
  
Resolve settled in and he was acting even before he was aware of what he was doing. He couldn't change whatever had happened but he'd be damned if he was going to let those people die. Refugees. From what he didn't know. He'd heard reports of refugees from an alien race arriving in Federation space, all refusing to speak of what had happened to them. The El-Aurians, it seemed. He wasn't surprised. El-Aurians, in his experience, were not accustomed to being in the position of needing someone to listen.  
  
His focus narrowed to saving as many of them as he could, to doing his duty. So focused, that when the moment came and the Enterprise's hull ruptured, he realized too late what was happening. What it was that had Calandre had felt.  
  
Losing him.  
  
He reached out, toward the ship, as if by that act he could save himself. As if Enterprise would reach out and pull him back. That, by sheer force of will, he would be back aboard, heading home to the place that had become his sanctuary. With Calandre in her beloved little town.  
  
Calandre...  
  
The thought of her name, of her, whispered across space and time to where the El-Aurian woman stood in Newfoundland. She was at the bar, turning with a drink in hand, to smile at a patron when it reached her, racing through her awareness and hit with the impact of a phaser blast.  
  
Jim...  
  
The glass slipped from numb fingers as the horrifying realization sunk in, as she felt the energy that was the Nexus rip Jim from her awareness, stealing a piece of herself with it. Before the horrified patrons of the bar, Calandre collapsed, a moan of grief escaping her, darkness rushing up to greet her. In that second, time slowed to an imperceptible crawl, and she felt herself change. Felt the loss of him...his presence with her and yet not.  
  
Then he was gone.  
  
And she with him.  
  
"Captain Kirk..."  
  
Opening his eyes to the sterile, well-lit environment of a starship's sickbay, he winced, rubbing at his forehead then squinted at the dusky-skinned woman standing beside him. "Where..."  
  
"The USS Farragut." She responded, smiling simply. "We're headed back to Earth."  
  
"Soran..."  
  
"Gone." She lowered her eyes. "He's where he wanted to be...Where he already was, really."  
  
"Dead." He finished, pushing himself into a sitting position. "Where's Picard?"  
  
The woman grinned. "No doubt lecturing his first officer. Most captains prefer to come back to find their ship in one piece."  
  
"Generally we do, yes." Jim agreed with a chuckle. "So, no tour of the new Enterprise for me, huh?"  
  
"Not until they build the next one. I'm afraid you'll just have to content yourself with your friends' opinion of it." Pulling herself up onto the biobed beside his, the mysterious woman said nothing else, letting him come to the realization on his own.  
  
Friends.  
  
Plural?  
  
He'd expected Spock to still be alive but...she'd implied more than one. He frowned. "Who are you?"  
  
Her eyes filled with a familiar look of mirth. "Guinan."  
  
Guinan. It took a moment to remember where he'd heard the name before. Calandre's friend. The one who, according to her, would appreciate his humor. "You're..."  
  
"El-Aurian. Like Soran...and Calandre. Yes." She nodded once again. "We were both on the Lakul. Soran and I." Guinan's attention went to the past. To the Nexus. "Our world was gone. Those of our people not taken by the Borg were scattered. El-Aurians are not a combative people. There's an expression on Earth, lambs to the slaughter. We didn't stand a chance against them. Soran's family...they were lost in the attack. He died in that moment. Unlike the rest of us, he never wanted to be saved. You've been to the Nexus. You know..."  
  
"What it was." He nodded, remembering the countless lives he'd played out. Marrying Carol. Staying with Antonia. Never once, though, never once had he gone back to Botwood. To the Dockside. To Calandre. Perhaps, he'd always known the unreality of it and, in a way, she and that place had always been the very essence of reality to him.  
  
"It was the closest Soran could get to having his family back. The closest he could get to feeling alive." She sighed. "Things are as they should have been now." She cast a grin in his direction. "Well....almost." Getting up, she moved toward the door. "By the way, Captain, Calandre was right. I do like you."  
  
He grinned in response, then sat back, reaching up to rub his forehead again. "Wonder if they've still got aspirin in the 24th century?"  
  
Nearly a hundred years since the last time he'd seen it and still, the town of Botwood hadn't changed. The homes were the same, the waterfront the same, Starfleet officers still came to the town while their ships were reprovisioned. The uniforms were different. But still 'Fleet.  
  
For as much as things change...they always remain the same... Calandre's words of a century before came back as clearly as if she'd just spoken them and he smiled to himself. How much the same was now the question. Guinan had answered some of his questions about the 24th century, Picard so many more, he'd spoken to Scotty and Bones...was ready to strangle Spock for his little pilgrimage to Romulus - reunification indeed - and had tracked down some of the descendants of his crew but he hadn't asked about Calandre.  
  
Not that he needed to.  
  
Walking into the Dockside, he found exactly what he'd expected to.  
  
Calandre smiled and set a beer on the bar for him. "You're late." She observed, looking just as she'd had the last time he'd seen her though, in her eyes, there was an otherworldly quality he didn't remember. She'd always seemed ageless but now...there was something else. Something, he suspected, that had come from losing him to the Nexus.  
  
He walked over, reaching out to take the drink, "Got lost for a while." Sipping the drink, he returned her smile. "Sorry."  
  
Calandre surveyed his features for a long moment before brushing his cheek with her fingertips. "Hungry?"  
  
Jim grinned and reached for her, "Starving."  
  
Finis 


End file.
